


Lost & Found

by dedougal



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Puppies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-29
Updated: 2014-03-29
Packaged: 2018-01-17 12:09:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1387105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedougal/pseuds/dedougal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles finds a dog in the street. Then he finds its owner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost & Found

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dazedrose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dazedrose/gifts).



> For the Cotton Candy Bingo prompt "lost and found". Idea shamelessly stolen from DazedRose because she knows my need to write fluff. Werewolves do exist but there was no space for them here...

Stiles counted his paces carefully. It was the only way he could get through this self-mandated walk, after all. He knew, theoretically, why fresh air and sunshine and exercise were good for him. But it was difficult. The counting helped him put one foot in front of the other and meant he could focus on something other than the street. He deliberately chose mid-morning for his walks: kids in school, most people at work or settled into their routine, warm but not too hot. He left the house at 10.45am and was normally back behind his locked door by noon. 

There had been days where he’d only made it to 10.50 but most of the time he could do a full three miles. 1760 yards in a mile, one stride equivalent to a yard so roughly five thousand steps were a good measure of how far he should be walking.

Today he had made it to 3356 when all his counting ground to an abrupt halt. Stiles tried to keep walking but his feet were pinned to the ground again. So he stopped, took a deep breath, and talked to his obstacle. “Hello, what’s your name?”

The dog – puppy – sat on his shoes, tilted its head and let out what would probably be a bark in the future, but was really more of a soft whuff. The puppy was well-looked after, its black fur clean and brushed with big brown eyes that looked beseechingly at Stiles. It was heavier than it looked, even though its feet were still ridiculously out of proportion to its spindly legs. At least its collar was still attached, tags jingling as it shook its head.

Stiles fixed the number of steps in his mind and bent down to look at the pup without shifting his feet. It was an easy number to remember. Then the puppy dashed off his feet and stopped a few steps away. 

Stiles looked up and down the block, hoping to see another person, maybe an open door with a panicking owner. But the street was as quiet and settled as it usually was when Stiles walked down it.

The puppy took another couple of lolloping steps, slid off the sidewalk and into the road. And even though it was a quiet street, Stiles knew that cars would pass by now and again. The dog took another couple of steps out. It was enough to make him start to panic a little. Deep breathing brought that back under control enough for Stiles to drag out his phone and shut off his music. Then he dashed out and picked up the dog and made it back to where he’d been standing on the sidewalk. He could just ignore the diversion and start counting again.

The dog licked his face and his chin and his eye as it wriggled around but Stiles managed to get a clear look at its tags. There was a cell number and an engraved Poppy. “You don’t look like a Poppy to me.” The dog merely attempted to lick him even more enthusiastically.

Stiles tried the number but there was no answer, typically, so he hefted the dog in his arms until was more comfortably settled. He started counting his steps again as he headed up the nearest driveway.

 

Four houses later and Stiles suddenly realized he’d lost track of his numbers. Two houses had been empty but he’d spoken to two complete strangers, one of who had just shook their head and shut the door in the face of Stiles’ stuttering enquiry. The next had pointed him at a house across the street.

Stiles still felt more comfortable talking to the puppy. “You must have run across the scary road. You shouldn’t do that.” The dog wriggled in his arms again and tried out its totally unthreatening bark. Stiles wondered if he should start counting back at the last number he should remember but in the end he just put it out of his head until later and crossed the road carefully to knock on the door opposite.

This house looked much the same as the others from the sidewalk but the closer Stiles got the more he could see that it was in need of some attention. The paint was chipped and peeling and the curtains were all hanging a little wonky. The yard needed swept and weeded. Stiles felt bad for noticing all these things – it wasn’t like he was helping out at home with any of those sort of chores. In fact, he tended not to look too closely at the house, being as he was either forcing himself away from it or trying to get the door closed behind him as quickly as possible.

He knocked and waited, submitting to another tongue bath. Then the door opened.

 

Stiles had quite a few moments in his life that he could point to and say “there, that’s where my life turned”. He stares at the man in front of him for a moment and wonders if this might be another one of those moments.

“I found a dog.” Stiles held it out.

The man took Poppy from him and submitted to her tongue bath. “Thanks! You have no idea-“ The man cut off to get Poppy trapped in the house. “My nephew opened her gate and she got out and I’ve got to get to work but I’ve been searching everywhere and…” The man trailed off again as he looked at Stiles. “Are you okay?”

Stiles nodded, swallowed. “I’m glad your dog is okay.” He needed to get back home. He’d done enough walking for the day. “Bye.”

He left the guy standing at his front door and walked away, trying to put the encounter to the back of his mind. He had other things to do. He needed to get home. He wanted to make lunch.

As he stepped onto his own driveway, he took a moment and paused, even though every nerve in his body was jumping to be on the other side of his door. He bit his lip as he took in the cracked paint on the porch and the way weeds were starting to come up through the pebbles on either side of the paved area. Mechanically, he turned the four locks behind him and checked them and checked them again before walking through and checking the rest of the house was just as he’d left it.

 

Stiles liked routines. He knew, perhaps, that he liked his routines a little too much but it made sure everything was in the right place and nothing would upset him enough to forget to do things again. When he got upset and didn’t eat or shower for a while, he felt shitty, so routines were good. Scott came to dinner on Tuesday which meant Stiles shopped for his meals. He wondered now and again about ordering his groceries and having them delivered but he knew it was important to keep trying to not stay in the house all the time. Grocery shopping was routine and useful.

He was lingering in front of the meat counter when Poppy’s owner ended up standing next to him. Stiles wondered what the rules were for this situation. He didn’t actually know the guy but they’d shared something.

“Hi,” the guy said, leaning over to offer his hand. Stiles shook it. “I’m Derek. Derek Hale.”

“That’s good. I was just calling you Poppy’s dad in my head.” He realized, belatedly, he should give his own name. He almost didn’t want to. He didn’t want Derek to recognize it and judge him on it. “I’m Stiles.”

“Thanks for the other day,” Derek said, turning back to eye up the steaks. “I’ve only had her a week.”

“No problem.” Stiles could feel the tightness across his shoulders ease a little. He watched the server finish up with the old woman who Stiles could tell recognized him. He placed his order, reading off the list, and then returned to holding on tight to his cart. He wanted to say something else to Derek but couldn’t think of anything. So he stayed quiet.

He looked at Derek, though. 

The day before, Derek had been in a suit. He had looked like something out of one of Stiles’ office fantasies. Today, on the other hand, he was wearing a soft shirt, worn and wrinkled. It made his shoulders look broad and his waist look neat and tidy. It just brushed halfway down his ass as well, which meant Stiles could eye up the curve subtly out of the corner of his eye. It wasn’t until his eyes made it back up to Derek’s face that he realized he wasn’t being very subtle at all.

Derek was half smiling at him, which was better than some of the reactions Stiles had got when he’d been caught checking someone out. “I don’t suppose you walk every day? Of course you don’t. But maybe you know someone who does. I need a dog walker and no one is available to take Poppy.”

Stiles digested that. “I do walk. Every day. Not at the weekends.” He took a deep breath to stop himself spilling out more details. He could feel the words building up behind his teeth in a way they hadn’t for quite some time. It made him panic and want to run out of the supermarket but that would be rude and this was what he did on a Sunday morning. He needed the food for the week and for Scott. Stiles tightened his hands on the bar of the cart and counted the number of tiles behind the meat counter.

“I could pay you,” Derek said. “She doesn’t need a long walk but she needs out and she likes you.” Stiles slid his eyes over to see Derek was serious. He was still wearing a half smile but his eyes were grave. “Think about it? Give me a call.”

The guy behind the counter slapped Stiles’ meat down on top of the counter and Stiles reached forward to take it and place it in its place in the cart. By the time he’d done that Derek was holding out a business card. Stiles hesitated a moment before reaching out and taking it, sliding it into his pocket without really looking at it.

“Call me?” Derek repeated. Stiles nodded, once, and pulled his cart away to continue to the next stop on his route. A fragment of an old pop song wound its way into his mind and Stiles found himself starting to hum.

 

Scott had long since stopped asking Stiles how he was and what he’d been up to. Instead he tended to chat on about his work and his bowling league and his life. It filled the silent places in Stiles’ own life, after all. He cooked and listened as Scott explained the finer intricacies of cat worming. Stiles drank his one beer and laughed at Scott’s jokes. They’d been friends so long, however, that the odd gaps, the omissions, made the changes more apparent than ever.

“I met someone new.” Stiles dropped the words into one of the unnatural hesitations in Scott’s recitation. “I met his dog. I guess.”

Scott swallowed his food. “What? Who?” He sounded really enthusiastic. Stiles wondered if he should just brush it off, pretend it was no big deal. But there was something in him that wanted to tell Scott all about it, let the whole story spill out. He started with his walk and ended up with Derek’s job offer. Scott’s eyes got bigger and bigger.

“Do it.” Scott nodded, urgently. “I… Okay, so I might have heard of Derek Hale and I know some of his friends. He’s- He’s not normally so approachable.”

“He was-“ Stiles cut himself off. Scott knew, however, that a judicious application of puppy dog eyes, almost as effective as Poppy’s, would get him to reveal all. “He was hot, okay.”

“He is an attractive man.” Scott was almost horrified at himself as he said it, which made Stiles chuckle, which made Scott laugh.

Stiles didn’t say any more about Derek but when Scott left he grabbed his phone and texted Derek. Texting was easier than calling and meant he could pretend that when he wasn’t answered straight away that it didn’t matter. In the end, though, as he went to charge his phone, there was a text already waiting. _See you tomorrow around nine?_

Stiles tapped out an affirmative before heading off to brush his teeth. It was a slight hiccup in his routine, but one he could deal with easily enough.

 

Derek was harried again, in his suit, a travel mug in one hand and Poppy’s lead wrapped around the other. “I know I said about walking so I was thinking I could give you keys. I don’t have a spare set cut yet.”

“She can come to mine.” The words were out before Stiles could censor them. “Pick her up after you’re done.” Stiles marveled at himself. His walk taking a turn this way, earlier than usual, taking the puppy… His routine was going to shaken apart, utterly destroyed. Stiles unraveled the leash from Derek’s hand, trying to not react to the pleasure he felt from the brief touches of their bare skin. 

Derek had a red flush high on his cheeks when Stiles managed to get Poppy transferred over. “But water bowls? And food? I’ve got stuff in the house.” Derek vanished for a moment before coming back with a backpack stuffed with dog gear. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“Are you sure you trust me with your dog?” Stiles hadn’t meant for it to come out so baldly but it was hard to care about hiding anything. The entire town had been witness to his breakdown after his dad… Derek must have heard gossip about that weird Stilinski kid by now.

“Scott says he trusts you.” Derek bent to ruffle Poppy’s ears before looking up at Stiles from under his eyelashes. His eyes were a swirl of blue and green and gold, something Stiles could get lost in. Poppy flumped down across both their shoes, demanding attention. Derek laughed at her before pushing himself up and turning back to lock the door. 

Stiles and Poppy watched him drive away. “Guess it’s you and me, kiddo.” Poppy barked and danced ahead of Stiles as he walked home. He wasn’t counting the steps.

 

Stiles ended up on the back porch with his laptop, letting Poppy bounce around the square of grass he paid one of the neighborhood kids to maintain. He still ate his lunch at one precisely, although he was interrupted by Poppy flopping onto his feet in a transparent begging attempt. Afterwards, it made sense to shift outside again. Stiles felt overheated in a way he hadn’t in a long time from sitting in the warm air but he also made his way through a lot of coding so it was a surprisingly good day. He was almost sad when Derek knocked at the door.

Poppy wasn’t sad to see him, rushing back and forth between Stiles and Derek, barking her huff of a bark and dropping toys at Derek’s feet in greeting. Derek knelt to ruffle her ears. “Did she behave okay?”

“We were outside most of the day,” Stiles said, waving his hand towards the still open back door. “I got a ton of work done as well. So. Good.”

“Work? I didn’t-“ Derek stopped himself from speaking but Stiles could tell what he was about to say.

“I code. From home. I don’t like to leave the house much. It works out.” Derek scratched down Poppy’s back, taking in the information. “Scott probably gives off the idea that I can’t do anything.”

“That’s not it,” Derek replied. He pushed up, leaving Poppy to chew at his shoelaces. Derek’s eyes were intent, his jaw set, as he tried to find the words. Stiles watched him swallow uselessly. “You’re not my charity case.”

Stiles wondered if Derek was serious. He was half the town’s charity case – people who remembered his dad or knew what he’d been like before his incident. The other half seemed to portray him as some kind of bogeyman. Stiles shrugged.

“I would like to…think we’re becoming friends.” Derek’s mouth twisted, in a way that said he didn’t say that word all that often. “And friends get dinner with each other.”

Stiles’ stomach twisted at the thought of going out. He wasn’t sure he could eat in public. He shrank back. “No. No, thanks.”

Derek shrugged this time. “What about pizza? Take out?” He knelt to move Poppy off his shoes. “You can tell me more about your work.”

Stiles thought for a moment. It wasn’t something he’d done in a while. He usually ate meatballs from the freezer on a Thursday. “I could do that.”

 

It became something of a new routine. Derek would drop Poppy off on his way to work, Stiles would walk her and spend time either out in the yard or, if the weather was shitty, curled up on his sofa. Poppy, sadly, didn’t seem to care if it was wet and demanded a walk, but Stiles drew the line at letting her out onto the grass. She seemed to attract mud without even trying hard. Then Derek would come in and sometimes he’d suggest they eat together. A few times he showed up with food, casseroles from his sister or something, and made Stiles help him eat them. It was as if Derek was making a place for himself in Stiles’ life.

Of course, that was when Stiles would go and screw it all up. “We should have sex.” 

Derek was sprawled on the sofa after too much Thai, idly rubbing Poppy’s ears. He flinched – his whole body shuddered. Stiles thought only people on TV did that – and he pushed himself up. “I have to get home.” He grabbed Poppy’s leash and waved at Stiles, awkward again, and did everything but flee the house.

 

Stiles lay on the sofa long past his routine bed time. He didn’t clean up the cartons lying in front of him and he didn’t change the channel over when some weird CSI clone came on. Instead he wondered if he’d ever see Derek again.

Stiles was fairly sure he’d read the signs right. Derek hadn’t called him out when Stiles had looked at him from under his eyelashes. He’d caught Derek looking quite a few times as well. And they touched, not even accidentally. And Stiles looked after his dog. Derek had to trust him a little as well.

As if he was whispering in his ear, Stiles could hear Scott in his head. “You don’t just ask people to fuck you. This isn’t college anymore.”

He covered his face with a cushion. 

 

Stiles was woken by a sudden flurry of knocking. He jerked awake but managed to keep himself from falling off the sofa. He could feel the creases of the cushion imprinted on his face and he rubbed at them as he opened the door.

Derek was there, in a thin t-shirt and soft looking pants that Stiles suspected weren’t meant to be seen outside of Derek’s bedroom. “Hi.”

Stiles blinked hard a few times before he realized that Derek really was standing on his porch.

“I thought about what you said.” Derek folded his arms, biceps straining at the worn material of his shirt. “It’s all I’ve been thinking about.”

“I’m sorry,” Stiles offered. “I didn’t mean to… No. I guess I meant to. I mean.” He stopped to take a breath. “I mean I should have eased into it.”

“Like I’ve been trying to ease into dating?” Derek unfolded his arms and let them dangle at his side, awkwardly, his hands twitching in and out of curls.

“Dating? So not just sex.” Stiles had to hold onto the door to keep himself steady. It was cold out, being as it was the middle of the night. “Can there still be sex?”

“You really like saying that word.” Derek looked calmer now and stepped inside the house when Stiles stepped back, closing the door behind him. “I should be more worried about the type of person who’s looking after my dog. The type of person I l- I like.”

Stiles leaned forward and placed a cautious kiss on Derek’s mouth, missing his lips and getting a bit of stubble for his trouble. He wanted to rewind and try and have that first kiss all over again. He froze, his brain working through the permutations for a moment. Then Derek laid a hand on his shoulder. “Kiss me again?”

This time it was closer to what Stiles hoped for. Derek’s hands cupped his face, holding him close and Stiles threw caution to the wind, wrapping his arms around Derek’s body. Derek turned him until Stiles was pressed against the wall, but all that let him do was hitch a leg over Derek’s hip, hauling him closer.

Derek kissed Stiles hard, mouth intent and wet and slick, pushing against him deliciously. Until he pulled back. “Shit.”

“What?” Stiles resisted the urge to look down at himself and see what he’d done wrong.

“I left Poppy all alone.” Derek frowned and Stiles nodded. “We can… If you like. Pick this up tomorrow?”

Stiles started to ease his hands away, reluctantly. His dick was hard in his jeans and Derek’s sweats were doing nothing to hide how much he was into just the kissing. Stiles didn’t want to stop.

“I could come with you.” Stiles bit at his lip. He hadn’t spent a night away from this house since he’d moved in, straight from the hospital. He knew where everything was, knew the sheets and the pillows and the path to the bathroom and back. He knew the hiding places. He didn’t know Derek’s house at all. He was trembling slightly at the thought, but Derek’s warmth against him was almost enough to overcome any anxiety.

Derek kissed him again, hard and fierce. “We should take this slow. Slow-ish.” Stiles rubbed against him to try and dissuade him. “And I don’t have stuff for the morning.”

“But tomorrow?” Stiles untangled himself from Derek, allowing him space. Derek nodded before opening the door and stepping out. He walked backwards to his car, not seeming to want to take his eyes off Stiles. “I’ve got lube. And condoms.”

Derek tripped a little, steadying himself on his car. “That’s good.” He took a moment to start moving again.

“I’m really glad you lost Poppy.” Stiles leaned against the door, watching Derek go. He felt a warm burn inside him at the thought of tomorrow. And the day after. And the ones after that.

“I’m glad you found her.” Derek waved, one final time, before pulling away from the sidewalk. Stiles watched his taillights fade into the distance for now.


End file.
